


#99

by hhopp



Series: Hhopp's Destiel Angst-a-Thon [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas Whump, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, OOC Dean, Whump, emergency first aid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:48:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhopp/pseuds/hhopp
Summary: "Help me up... Please help me up."





	

It was supposed to be a simple hunt. And, of course, they said that nearly every time something went wrong, but Garth had promised that this was just a little nest of vamps, all young and recently turned. They had asked specifically for straightforward cases to ease Cas into hunting with the possibility of getting hurt, now that his mojo was gone. 

Except the nest turned out to be much bigger than originally anticipated. They held their own as well as could be expected, but things got a little messy. Sam had almost certainly broken his wrist and both of Dean’s shoulders were dislocated. Cas seemed bummed that he couldn’t heal them, but mostly okay. They got to their motel in one piece and Sam retired to his room. 

Cas swayed on his feet for a moment after getting out of the car, and crashed to the asphalt before Dean could get to the other side. The trench coat fell aside to reveal a large and growing red stain on his shirt. 

“Cas!”

“Help me up,” he pleaded. The crackling beams of the parking lot lights cast shadows, turning his cheekbones hollow and the bloodstain nearly black. “Dean, please, help me up, I can’t feel my legs.” His voice was thin. 

Dean knelt beside him. The stiff cloth of his stupid white dress shirt was torn, and blood was pouring out of it in little spurts. He slid his shoulders under Cas’ arm and hauled him to his feet. Together, they stumbled through the door. God, was he glad that they’d put the first aid kit in his duffel this time around because he did’t know that he could leave the ex-angel alone long enough to get it from Sam’s room. When they made it to the bed, Cas was barely able to sit up. 

He crossed the room to get the frayed old pouch of gauze and embroidery thread which had seen more injuries than he could count. Apparently a hole had formed in the bottom of it, and he had to dig through the messy pile of shirts to find a needle. His trembling hands drew out the process, stealing time which Cas might not have.

When Dean turned around, he saw him wrestling his way out of the grimy trench coat. “Cas, stop,” he said, voice level but ready to break, as he made his way back to the side of the bed. It was as if he didn’t even hear him; the red patch on his shirt grew faster. He laid a hand on Cas’ arm to still him. He jerked away, smearing blood across the ugly brown comforter. “Stop it, you’re getting blood everywhere. Cas, stop.” He reached for him again, this time catching the sleeve.

“Get it off,” Cas whimpered. 

“Let me— here, let me get it.” He slowed in his thrashing to allow Dean to slip the coat off. Next came the jacket. When the heel of his palm grazed against his wound in an attempt to unbutton the bedraggled shirt, Cas keened and arched away. “Stop it, Cas! Stop, let me— let me get it, please, no, stop.” His voice cracked. “You’re getting blood everywhere, baby, let me help you.” 

He climbed up onto the bed and over Cas, pinning the dark-haired’s hips down with his knees. He tore at the shirt, being as gentle as he could with the cut. It was still bleeding, albeit slower, when the skin was finally bare. Dean pressed his hands against it, hard. 

Cas just screamed. 

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It hurts, but we’ve got to stop the bleeding.” He wished he had an extra hand to wipe away the tears streaming down their faces. The current slowed after a few minutes. “Okay, I’m gonna have to take my hands off to stitch you up. It’ll hurt like hell, but you need to be still, okay?” Cas screwed his eyes shut and nodded. His near-silent hiss of pain was almost worse than the screaming as Dean peeled away his hands. Blood was caked onto them, the dried stuff crusted under his fingernails and forming an almost scaly layer on his skin, the fresher, darker of it dripping form his fingertips. He wiped them on his pants and threaded the needle. (It took four tries.)

Slowly, slowly, he sewed together the gash. One of Cas’ siblings had to have been watching over him or something, because somehow the vamp had managed to miss all the important organs. The cut wasn’t shallow, but it wasn’t really deep, either. Next came dressings and gauze. 

Where Dean could not soothe with soft touches and firms squeezes of hands, he murmured little comforts and apologies. It was strange, how tender he was with Cas. The man was by no means fragile, and Dean was a rough-edges kind of guy, but somehow, he always found himself slipping into a routine of gentleness with him. 

“Alright. That should do it. Try to get some rest, okay?”

“Thank you.” Dean smiled tightly at him. 

“You’re welcome.” He got off the bed and went to put the first aid stuff back in his bag. Went to the bathroom to wash off the blood and change out of his sweaty clothes. Cas’ eyes were fluttering when he switched off the overhead light. “Sleeping will make you feel better,” he sighed. 

In a sleepy mumble, Cas said, “Wanted to wait for you.”

“Well, I’m here now.” He sat at the foot of the bed and worked the shoes and socks off of his feet, then the dirty pants off of his legs. A smile passed his lips when Cas jerked his foot away as the side of his finger skimmed against the ticklish sole. It took a few minutes to maneuver the covers over top of him, bloodstained and all. He’d lost a fair amount of blood and would probably be cold, so it was necessary, if unsanitary. “Sleep,” he commanded, turning off the light. Cas shifted and pillowed his head on Dean’s chest. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing. Kudos, Comments, you know the drill if you've ever read an author's note before.


End file.
